


Monday

by Inbetween



Series: Days Of The Week [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Lady Loki, Y'all know that hot dog scene from the comics?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inbetween/pseuds/Inbetween
Summary: In Peter's defense, things had been quiet lately. There was no way he could have predicted standing across from Loki (Lady Loki?) in the back alley of a Walmart, with nothing but his manners and a prayer between them.“Please hand over the frog.” Peter says politely. His hand is outstretched, surprisingly steady despite the sweat sticking his suit to his skin. Everything is too bright, too loud, too sharp. He can feel the sensory overload knocking on his temples.Loki squeezes the frog harder, eyes half-lidded and cold, and pulls out a knife.In which Peter bargains with a supervillain, Loki is stylish, and they name a cat together.
Relationships: Loki & Peter Parker
Series: Days Of The Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682737
Comments: 58
Kudos: 391





	Monday

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first part of this one-shot, I recommend you do :)
> 
> If you haven't, this fic follows the 2012 vibe where Loki was a supervillain terrorizing New York and the Avengers were a big happy family--Spiderman homecoming has happened, but nothing else.

Peter blames midterms.

The week following his encounter with Loki had been a mess of preparing for his exams, managing the 36 alarms on his phone, and being spiderman.

In light of that, he thought it was reasonable he’d forgotten about Loki by the time Monday rolled around.

Reasonable, but stupid.

* * *

“Please hand over the frog.” Peter says politely. His hand is outstretched, surprisingly steady despite the sweat sticking his suit to his skin. Everything is too bright, too loud, too _sharp._

 _‘I need to calm down,’_ Peter thinks uselessly. The stench of sewage burns in his nose. The shadows of the alley pull away as his eyes sharpen, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He’s too aware. He can feel the sensory overload knocking on his temples.

Loki rolls back onto her heels. Her eyes are half-lidded. Her face is softer than her male form, shoulders narrower and lips fuller, all framed by a mane of black hair. That’s where the differences end. She squeezes the frog harder, one thumb on its belly as it bloats.

Her nail-polish is black and chipped. She hadn’t reapplied it since last Sunday.

Peter fights to keep his posture relaxed.

“Please?” He tries again. His voice cracks a little, near the end.

Loki pulls out a knife.

* * *

To understand how he had managed to get himself into a standoff with a supervillain and a frog, in the alley behind a Walmart, we’ll have to go back several hours.

Peter had started his day as he always did: full of existential fear.

“You need to get a better alarm!” May calls from deeper into the apartment. Peter, who was crouched on the floor beside his bed, trying to turn off his alarm with increasing desperation, grimaced.

“I thought it would be funny!” He wails back.

The kazoo rendition of ‘The final countdown’ screams louder. By the time he’d managed to turn off his alarm (he’d given up and shut down his phone), he’s left with 5 minutes and a prayer to get ready for school.

Predictably, this ends with him walking down the street at 6 am wearing two different shoes, jeans that’d shrunk ages ago but he’d never had the heart to throw out, and a sponge bob t-shirt he’d bought semi-ironically.

“What did I do to you?” Peter hisses at the sky. God does not answer.

“I like your shirt.” Ned whispers to him in lab, 2 hours after Flash had already live-streamed his walk of shame down the corridor.

“No, you don’t.” Peter says miserably.

Ned meets his eyes solemnly across the table, hikes his leg up, and shows him his Patrick themed socks. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Bro.” Peter gasps feelingly.

“Bro.” Ned agrees, also feelingly. They share a moment. Peter feels his skin prick and plucks the ball aimed for the back of his head out of the air. He blinks across the class at Michelle. She pops her bubblegum at him.

 _‘You look like a Kidz bop cover, if they were homeless.’_ reads the note.

Which pretty much summed up everyone else’s reactions for the rest of the day.

It was probably why he started his patrol earlier than he usually would—Spiderman didn’t wear sponge-bob. He ends up dumping his backpack close to his school, which turns his whole route around. That may be in part why he ran into them in the first place.

He’s perched on someone’s balcony, trying to figure out how badly he wanted a hot dog when his spidey sense goes off.

Peter picks them out of the crowd easily enough. There’s a woman in an olive trench coat making her way down the street with long, sauntering strides. Peter stares at her for a moment, frowning. There was something familiar about her, but—

He’s quickly distracted by the man that trots in her wake. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, (Though not as tall as the woman, Peter was surprised to note) with a grey cap pulled low over his eyes.

It only takes a few more minutes of crawling along the roof edge for Peter to figure out he’s following the woman. It takes less than that for the woman to disappear into an alleyway in one, smooth stride. The shadows welcome her easily, rippling across her hair.

The effect puts Peter off for a moment, stuttering his landing onto the building beside it—a Walmart. The hesitation is enough for the man to follow her in, and then Peter’s at the edge of the building eyes locked for the man. His spidey sense prickles.

The man slows down as he enters the alley, looking around in a slow kind of confusion. Peter frowns at him. The woman was _right there_ , leaning against the wall as he draws closer. Her eyes glint in the darkness, bottle green.

Peter stills.

His spidey sense bubbles under his skin.

It was warning him about the woman, not the man.

Peter’s lips part, a warning caught in his throat, before the woman steps forwards and the shadows slide off her shoulders. He sees the moment the man sees her, sees the way he lurches back.

“Hello, agent.” She purrs and the noise crawls into Peter’s ears. She snaps.

“Oh.” Peter rasps, the warning shriveling up on this tongue.

The green light had gone off like a flashbang, bits of it still caught in the air. The magic slips away after a moment though. The man is gone. In his place is—

Peter drops into a crouch, claps his hands together, and presses it against the bottom of his mask. “Oh god.”

In the alleyway beneath him, the black-haired woman scoops up the frog in front of her.

 _‘Loki.’_ Peter realizes, then swings himself off the building and lands in a neat crouch in front of her.

She doesn’t look surprised to see him. She tosses the frog once, then catches it around the belly like a softball. It makes a soft _thwack_ noise. Peter swallows thickly. Holds out a hand.

“Can I have that frog please?” Then, when he realizes that was far too polite and _I’m spiderman right now,_ he clears his throat and tries to deepen his voice. “Hand over the frog, please.”

Which brings us back to the start of the story.

* * *

Loki taps the tip of the knife on the frog’s head. “This frog?” She asks. Her tone is sweet, innocent. Her expression doesn't match it.

 _‘That’s so creepy.’_ Peter thinks, and nods. “You probably don’t need it, so.” He makes a ‘gimme’ gesture with his hand.

“What are you going to do with it?” She asks, brow furrowing delicately.

“Um. I’d like to turn him back.”

“You think you can?” She snorts. “What are you going to do, kiss it?”

Peter stares at the frog. It croaks. His fingers quiver. “Don’t knock it till you try it?”

Loki lowers the frog then, staring at him in confusion. Some of her hostility had faded, replaced with a narrow squint as she looked him over. “…Right. Who are you again?”

Peter tries to straighten out his back. “I’m spiderman.”

She stares blankly at him.

“I’m like. A superhero. It's my—look, did he offend you or something? He can probably apologize if you turn him back, I don’t know why you decided on a _frog,_ like, wouldn’t it have been easier to knock him out? Not that I’m an expert on magic or anything but like, he’s a _frog now,_ oh my god that is a frog. You turned a whole, grown man into a frog. Does conservation of mass mean _nothing to you?_ That is a _frog!”_

Peter is aware that he’s rambling. He’s also aware that he may have sounded a bit too offended at the end because Loki casts him an irritated look and rubs at her temple.

“Shut up.” She says icily.

“You’re really tall.” Peter whispers. She glares at him, then sighs and pitches him the frog.

“I’m a giant.” She says, watching with disdain as he scrambles to catch the frog.

“Yeah,” Peter says, and stares at the frog in his hands. “that’s what I said.”

“What? No, I’m _literally—_ why am I explaining this to you?” She tucks her hands into her trench coat. She’s wearing leather pants, and boots with gold zippers. “Are you going to attack me?”

“Um. No.”

She glints her teeth at him. It’s not a smile. “I thought you were a superhero.”

“Yeah, but like…” He holds up his hands, and the frog blinks slowly. It’s wet. “I’m holding a frog right now.” His vision goes blurry and he has to blink away the tears. _‘I might be a little overwhelmed.’_

He sees her shoulders slowly lower—he hadn’t even noticed when they’d raised, thrown back and braced for a fight. “You’re…strange.”

Peter doesn’t respond, so she adds: “And your costume is ugly.”

“Can you turn him back?” Peter asks, finally realizing that he had no damn idea how to _begin_ telling Mr. Stark that the frog in his hands was an agent. _‘Mr. Stark, I have something to tell you, but first: Do you know who Perry the platypus is? I promise it’s relevant.’_

“I can.”

“Will you?”

“ _He_ was the one following _me.”_ She says, and her eyes spark. Like, literally spark: Peter sees the little green glow and everything. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

Peter jiggles the frog. “He doesn’t feel very lucky to me.”

Her lips twitch into a surprised smile, before its gone again. “You said you were a superhero.” She flips her mane of black hair over a shoulder. “What can you do?”

“Uh…I’m sticky. And I can do this.” Peter does a backflip. The frog croaks. Loki looks disappointed. “…I also know all the best hot dog places in Queens?” Peter tries.

Loki sighs deeply. “I’d kill you, but I’m busy.” She smiles at him then, charming.

“How about we strike a deal instead? I’m looking for something. Help me find it…” She waves her hand, and the frog begins to float out of his hands, surrounded with a pale green glow. Peter holds on to one of its legs, and it hangs in the air like a balloon. “…and I’ll turn your agent back.” The green glow winks out and the frog falls back into his hands.

She smiles. “What do you say, spiderling?”

“I’m going to need somewhere to put this frog.”

“Pspspspsps,” Peter says.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Loki snaps, and the cat he had been trying to summon screeches and tears through a stack of garbage.

“Aw, man!” Peter cries, sitting back on his heels. “I almost had it!”

“That’s not even the right cat!” Loki snarls, before her face spasms and he sees her manually smooth out her expression. She takes a breath. “That’s not the right cat.” She repeats, calmer.

“See, that would mean more to me if I knew what the right cat _was.”_

A muscle in her jaw jumps. Peter sighs and stands, dusting his hands off. “Listen,” He says. “Neither of us are telepathic—”

“I am.”

“—so _maybe_ this would go faster if you could just tell me what your cat looks like!”

“It’s not my cat!”

Peter blinks at her. “Wait, it's not?”

“I-“ She sighs and puffs out her cheeks. “It’s a stray, that’s all.” The frog peeks out at him from Loki’s pocket. Mercilessly, she stuffs its back under.

Peter squawks and makes an aborted motion for the frog. “Be gentle with him!”

She glares at him. “The frog doesn’t matter!”

“It matters! It definitely matters!”

“Why don’t you have pockets?” She hisses, arms folded. Behind her, the sky starts to pink. It had been blue when they started.

“First you call my costume ugly, and then you insult my lack of pockets? Iron-man doesn’t have pockets!”

“Iron-man also has the same color scheme as Ronald Mcdonald!”

Peter splutters at her. He sees her bite the inside of her cheek before she squeezes her eyes shut. There’s a pause where he thinks she’s counting to 10. She blows a breath out slowly between her lips.

“I,” She breathes. “don’t have time for this.”

“Neither do I, man. I’ve got math homework. Listen, could you please just tell me more about this cat? Like, a name?”

“It’s a stray, why would I name it?” She looks genuinely confused.

Peter stares at her. “You just spent 4 hours trying to find it and you didn’t even give it a name?” Loki colors. Peter shakes his head. “I guess its name is Froggy now.”

She scowls. “Its name is _not_ Froggy.”

“What does Froggy look like?”

The glare she gives him would be a lot more effective if Peter couldn’t see the frog trying to look out of her pocket again. “It’s black.” She says tightly, then nothing else.

Peter drags a hand down his face. “What do you think I’m going to _do_ with information about what your cat looks like? Call the avengers?”

“It’s not my cat!”

“Why are you looking for a stray!”

“It didn’t show up and I was worried!” She roars, voice splitting the air like a whip, and Peter feels the air crackle—he isn’t sure what he expects Loki’s magic to feel like, but it hangs in the air with dry heat and a smell like woodsmoke.

 _‘Loki is the god of fire in the myths.’_ Peter thinks dully.

Then, he sees her face fall in surprise and a flush begins to creep up her neck.

“Aw,” Peter says, like he isn’t so full of adrenaline his vision is spotting. “You care.”

Loki’s ears turn red. The magic in the air remains unused. “It’s missing a leg.” Loki says.

“Froggy sounds like a badass.” Peter says. They stare at each other for a moment, before Loki notices the frog and slaps it back down into her pocket with a curse.

Peter laughs, more out of nerves than anything, and Loki huffs. She spins on a heel, coat flaring and walks out of the alley.

“Keep searching,” she says icily. “Or you can kiss your frog goodbye.”

“Do you wear the coats and stuff just for the flare?”

“They also have pockets.” She says snidely.

“Hey!”

Peter falls into step with her after a moment. They walk in silence for a few minutes, Peter sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. Her expression, nor her posture give anything away, but there’s the same tired flatness to her eyes that he’d seen in the grocery store.

“What is it?” she asks, and Peter starts.

_‘You look tired. What did you need the cornstarch for? Did you like the gummy worms? When did supervillains start caring about cats? Do you really think my costume is ugly?’_

“Do you want to get hot dogs?”

Loki actually turns her head then and stares at him. “Excuse me?”

“Hot dogs,” Peter says and begins walking toward one of the stands. “Do you want one?”

She doesn’t answer, so he shrugs and bounds up to it. “Hey!” He chirps brightly. “Can I have a hotdog with, like, everything you’ve got?” His spidey sense tugs at the back of his neck. “One for her too.” Peter adds. Loki, who was leaning against a street light and definitely out sight, gives him a put-out look.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to attack me.” Loki says, lip curling as she stares at the monstrosity being held toward her.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Peter huffs. “It’s not that bad.” She takes it from him gingerly, like she expects it to explode, and holds it a safe distance away from her. True to his word, the hot dog had been loaded with everything the man could fit on it.

“What are the green bits?”

Peter rolls up the bottom of his mask and takes a bite, shrugging at her. She gives him a disgusted look. “There,” She says. “Is no dignified way to eat this.”

_‘I’ve already seen you in jeans with your hair in a bun, I think we’re past that.’_

“Dignity is overrated.” Peter tells her wisely and takes another bite. Loki sighs, and leans her head against the streetlight.

“Dignity is a trapping that’s never managed to ensnare me before.” She agrees finally, in the voice of someone at the gallows, before taking a bite.

Peter pulls out his phone and plays her a fanfare. She glares at him and steps on his foot.

“So,” Peter says after a while of silence, scanning the streets idly for any cats. “Why are you a supervillain?”

“I’ve tried everything else.”

Peter starts, flicking a look at her. She isn’t lying, but there’s a heavier, darker undertone to her words and she’s got a bitter smile playing her lips.

“Have you tried being a superhero yet?”

She meets his eyes, then squints. “I knew the hotdog was untrustworthy but has it poisoned your mind already?”

Peter pouts. “Just asking, sheesh.”

She scoffs and looks away. Which is, of course, when Peter spots the cat.

The world slows, and his heart beats once, strongly, in his ears.

 _‘Loki hasn’t noticed yet.’_ Peter thinks, staring across the street. Aunt May smiles and laughs at something the woman at the pet store is saying, standing in the doorway of her shop. In May’s arms is a small black cat without a leg. _‘Loki’s going to notice eventually.’_ He thinks, before swallowing thickly.

“Hey,” He says, and it sounds like he’s hearing himself underwater. “Is that your cat?”

Loki looks up across the street, and something in her shoulders unwinds. “Yes, it is.” She says smoothly, hands him her hotdog, and begins walking.

Peter immediately jogs to catch up, hot dog in either hand. “Uh, maybe I should do the talking?” He squeaks. Loki flicks a look at him.

“What’s the difference?” She asks, and _‘Hell no I’m not letting you anywhere near my Aunt, thanks.’_

Peter speeds up, and May sees him—a smile crosses her face, wide and pretty. She opens her mouth to say something, and Peter holds out his arms and yells “Froggy!” over her.

She starts, then frowns, then squints. “What?”

“Froggy!” Peter says again, making a desperate grabby motion for the cat. “We were looking everywhere for her—him—them?”

“Her,” Loki confirms from behind him, and May blinks in surprise. She has to tilt her head back to look the woman in the eye.

“Oh,” May says after a pause, flicking a glance quickly at Peter. “Is she yours?”

“Is that a collar?” Loki says, confused, and plucks the cat out of May’s arms without asking. She holds it at arms-length by the armpits. Froggy meows.

It is a collar. It’s a spiderman themed collar.

“Oh, well, she didn’t have one, and I was worried she’d get picked up by animal control otherwise.” May says. Loki stares at it for a moment longer, and Peter shifts nervously.

“…Thank you.” Loki says, sounding like she wasn’t sure if she meant it, and tucks the cat into one arm. “Very well,” She sighs and turns to Peter. “A deal’s a deal.”

She pulls out the frog with her free hand and offers it to him. He takes it cautiously, before Loki snaps and then there’s a _grown man_ in his arms and Peter makes a sound of pure distress as both hot dogs fall out of his hands.

Loki laughs, a cheerful, surprised noise, and covers her mouth. “Oh, sorry.” She snickers.

“You suck.” Peter says feelingly and she grins at him and then she’s gone and May is blinking away the remnants of the green flash from her eyes.

The unconscious SHIELD agent in his arms doesn’t stir.

“Peter,” May says, slowly, carefully. May was not a stupid woman. Peter feels his stomach flip. “Was that Loki?”

“…Who’s peter?” Peter asks meekly.

**Author's Note:**

> The comments and feedback on the last one-shot were wild, and it's a large reason why this second part came out so quickly--I love reading comments, so if you enjoyed it please drop one! It's highly motivating :D


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